Long Suffered
by Girl-chama
Summary: The words now mattered less than the giving.  "It's something to show you that I still know who I am.  That you still know who I am." oneshot, NO spoilers for ME3


Perhaps the most comforting thing about returning to the Normandy was standard gravity; that moment the shuttle began docking procedures. The split second of zero-g that suspended her feet in weightlessness before the heaviness returned. Just for a moment it was glorious.

Gravity on Illium was low enough for the human body to tolerate without armor augmentation, and just high enough that more than just her feet were aching. After four back to back objectives with zero down time, she was nearly at her limit. That, and being shot at had lost its appeal sometime before adolescence. Liara's actions in particular had led her on an emotional roller coaster ride.

Shepard glanced at Thane, not bothering with discretion. He met her glance without hesitation, a supernatural awareness in him that caught her eyes. She knew that weariness was in her face, but she managed a welcoming smile. He was gracious enough to return the gesture with a polite nod and then resumed gazing at the Normandy on approach. Not what she expected in an assassin, nor a justicar, in the matter of Samara.

Their team, such as it was, felt as though it was finally coming together. Both warriors possessed skills she had seen firsthand and their temperaments were such that they might gel better with the other team members than those already onboard. Or at least, it seemed that, they would not further inflame the others. Best to leave Jack out of the introductions. Just in case.

One more worry on a steadily growing list.

How long had it taken everyone on the first Normandy to come together? They had chased their quarry for months, Saren and the Geth always one step ahead. But then, had they ever been friends? She thought so, but maybe the reality was that they had simply been desperate; the common foes of a cataclysmic enemy?

Dr. Chakwas had likened her to a rock, an anchor for those drifting around her. Maybe, but she felt more like the untethered one, loose and adrift, left behind by those with whom she had spent so many months.

She stopped her dismal train of thought before it could begin a downward spiral. She was tired, but not delirious. Liara's refusal, though painful, had been followed almost immediately by the revelation that the asari had saved her life. Or at least her body; made another shot at life possible. They had embraced as sisters, and she could not fault the woman for trying to do right by a fallen friend. She liked to think she would do the same were their situations reversed. Wasn't Garrus here, running calibrations in the main gunnery only meters below her? He could have very well stayed on Omega, but it had been his choice to come.

The real problem was the pain closer than that left by Liara, the one she was still working through. Weeks out from Horizon and even thinking about that mission was a hot splinter in her heart. No, the mission was not the problem. By some cold definitions, it had been a success. The pain lay in remembering Kaidan and his words- hell, any of his words after Cerberus had been brought up.

The familiar jostle and the anticipated zero-g snapped her from the wistful reverie. She caught a sigh in her throat and gratefully ate up the sight of her ship. Miranda cast her a look that was not as subtle as the liaison thought it was. They disembarked the shuttle with Garrus picking up the rear and Shepard began the now oft-repeated task of orienting their new colleague.

"…Currently property of Cerberus, though our goal is one that serves the entire galaxy." That much was true. The Normandy's initial designs had been the Alliance's, but Cerberus had taken the stolen plans and run with it. This physical property was theirs, and would be until they gave her a reason to steal it out from under them.

They boarded the elevator as she continued parsing the terms of Thane's contract. In addition to his fee, he would be given virtually free access to the ship. They were in the midst of a series of recruiting objectives, of which he was the latest in a short list, and were very nearly finished.

By the time they made it to the Briefing Room, Thane looked fairly relaxed. Not that he had looked uptight to begin. Garrus and Miranda, however, appeared to be as tired as she felt.

"That should bring you up to speed," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. "Is there any other way we can accommodate you?"

The quiet man bowed his head thoughtfully, and the reflective silence that followed struck her as something pleasant. After a moment he lifted black eyes and said in his throaty voice, "I thank you for your hospitality. If possible, do you have an arid room?"

His request slid around her comprehension for a moment, and she was still contemplating the request when EDI's projection illuminated the table. The AI explained about the nature of the Life Support room on the main crew deck and its tendency towards dryness. Shepard blinked as Thane nodded again. Trust an AI to pick up nuance and context before an organic… She suggested that Garrus direct him to his room since they would be going in the same direction and likely both wanted to rest.

The aliens' voices had barely faded behind the closed doors when she turned to her, technically, second in command, and said, "Why don't you get some rest, too, Miranda. It's been a trying few days." She could see the woman's mind working behind still eyes and a tired expression that was attempting to be pleasantly neutral. For the first time since she had met her she felt a connection with her. Frankly, she wondered if she was looking in a mirror.

There was weariness to her that rescuing Oriana had created; seeing Niket gunned down, feeling his betrayal at all. But there was also respect, a contentment that had displaced the quiet unrest she usually controlled so well. Shepard resisted the urge to smile.

"As you say, Commander," Miranda spoke calmly. She was nearly gone when she turned back and added, "May I suggest you do the same, Shepard? You look like hell." The doors slid shut with a pressurized hiss while the Cerberus officer was still smiling, and any chance for a retort Shepard might have served was lost.

She smirked just the same and wryly replied, "Noted," to the air. After a few moments in the bright solitude she gave vent to the sigh that had been waiting for release. Quickly palming her eyes, she made for the door, cutting through Mordin's lab towards the CIC proper.

"All well?" she called to the salarian as she passed. He waved a distracted hand, taking her question for the greeting it was, and did not look up from his work. She glanced only briefly at the information terminals just lateral to him. They had acquired a few pieces of technology that need to be incorporated soon; extended fuel cells from Helios TT and the thanix cannon from Garrus.

Those needs were on her list, too, but surely they would keep for a few hours?

Striding on, she made her way towards the Bridge. Joker could give the best update of anyone about the ship. It was not just the Normandy he kept abreast of, either, but the crew and their new teammates as well. For all of his limited mobility, the man was a hotbed of 'intelligence.' Since he shunned 'gossip' as too feminine.

He did as she hoped. As it was, blessed nothing had happened while they were planet-side, save the already scheduled upgrades. EDI remained a collection of sovereign, slave-driving algorithms, a comment that she took as a compliment, further irritating the helmsman. Shepard was smiling, privately wondering if Joker had not found someone, something, who rather suited him- or at least handled him. She was still smiling when he turned and asked about Liara, and she was subdued again shortly after when she began the trek to her private terminal.

Kelly tossed her a friendly smile, which was returned easily, if not as brightly. The yeoman's expression was just was as telling as a "New messages, Commander," and preferable to the vocalizing such information with the entire CIC crew. It was enough that a loyal Cerberus official was vetting all of her correspondence without each of her subordinates knowing so many details of her business.

She logged into the terminal without seeing her input characters. Her mind was trying to compile tasks from the list that she could accomplish from her terminal before sleeping. It was too easy a distraction to think of sleep, which led to other thoughts, and soon all she could see was the thick line of dirt beneath her fingernails. When had she last bathed properly, not just hitting the hot spots, but giving her whole body a proper scrub? The answer was slow in coming, and before she completely recollected the time, her login completed and tasks were before her.

Thane's profile she updated while new information was somewhat fresh in her mind- her opinions of him this early on as well as anything she could use to fill in the gaps of his flimsy dossier. The next round of Normandy upgrades came next, those they could afford to implement. Orders for each new measure were sent to the appropriate ship station. She would need to check in with Thane to see if he had any ideas about new add-ons.

The list. The list. The always-growing list.

Kelly was too near, and so Shepard withheld the stress-relieving curse she wanted to drop. Soon she was actually going to have to make use of the woman's skills. Or carry a data pad everywhere she went like a complete tool.

Coordinates for their next courses were sent to Joker via EDI as well as the new mineral scans they needed to undertake to fund them. All of these fancy, and life-protecting, additions were not going to pay for themselves. Even the Illusive Man's pocketbook had a basement.

Her brain was in a thick fog of itineraries by the time she opened her inbox.

A message from the Illusive One himself ranked at the top of her inbox- always preferable to a face-to-face encounter but still odious. Even months into work with- never for- Cerberus, she still did not trust him. His motivation, his willingness to do whatever 'necessary' to win this campaign, but she did not trust him; not to see her, or any of the rest of the crew, out of this alive. He pushed buttons from his comfy-looking chair, but truly, the Normandy and her crew were on their own. They needed more mineral scans.

She pulled her eyes away from his message without reading it and scanned down the list. Spam from a bogus volus merchant, or a stupid one, who had no idea who she was and how little she appreciated being screwed around with. A random message from [Reeves] asking for help finding family members who had been abducted by the Collectors, then...

"About Horizon…"

Shepard blinked once at the title. When the shining orange letters refocused into the same title she checked the sender. It was blocked. Anxiously curious, she opened the message, expecting information on the Collectors or an overdue funds transfer from the Illusive Wonder. It was neither.

The first read through yielded little in the way of understanding, but she could feel that pain she had tried to avoid as it once more began mangling her insides. She tried reading it again with the same luck and then a third time before she sighed and freed an accessory data pad from beneath the desktop. Impatiently, she waited as the entire inbox was downloaded to the e-reader.

Kaidan had written to her. Kaidan had reached out to her, and she was too damned tired to see if what he extended was an olive branch or a blazing torch that would burn the tenuous bridge between them. Maybe it was neither, even, but if not then what? Had he not already said everything he had to say on Horizon? His feelings had been clear enough when they parted ways. She neither needed nor wanted to hear more of the same.

Her finger reached out and hovered over the screen intentionally, ready to key in the cancel command, with a quick follow of delete. She could end it all now without being berated for making the best choices available to her. She would put it all behind her, just as Kaidan had. Just as Liara had, and Tali had, and Wrex and even Garrus had. She would move on with her life, the life that had been rebooted for a purpose.

"Commander?" Kelly's concerned voice called. Shepard looked sharply right over the meter away where the yeoman was standing. Her eyes were sad, concerned, and then the beeping of a completed download distracted them both.

She blinked, only briefly wondering how long she had been standing there, before she snatched up the pad and marched toward the elevator.

The loft was exactly as she'd left it five days prior, and music a touch too epic began playing as soon as the lights came on. She quickly shut down the stereo, casting the room into the soft hum of the Normandy's mechanical song. It was as quiet as it ever got, and it was perfect.

Her desk chair was closest in reach, and she quickly dropped into it, scowling at the picture frame to her right.

"What are you up to?" she asked it quietly. Kaidan's face stared back at her solemnly.

She turned the reader over in her hand and enabled it. Her movements felt rushed and choppy, and she tried to slow down, but there was never enough time for the things she needed to do, much less wanted. This time even her dirty fingernails were not distracting enough to keep her from navigating straight to his message. This time she took the effort to read slowly, mouthing each word for remembrance.

When it was done, and it was a relatively short letter, she sat back heavily. Her eyes stared straight ahead, seeing nothing as she dissected and absorbed the body of the message. The words were only words, but in the syntax were the voice and language of Kaidan Alenko. She had not given herself time to doubt its authenticity, and only now she realized that it was never a concern at all. This was no ploy by some maligning pretender, though she could think of a few who might try. Kaidan was all over the message.

So he mistrusted her working for Cerberus, did he? And he was seeing a doctor, was he? The first she could understand, and the second too, but why _tell_ her the second at all? He had claimed in the middle of the colony before Grunt and Jacob both that he had loved her. Past tense, he had said. She frowned again at the holo, searching for signs of dishonesty in his face. Her anger flared, but more from hurt than vindication. She was tired, and Kaidan had never been the vengeful type. So she tried to tell herself.

She scanned the reader again. These two years he had spent putting himself together, thinking her dead. No. Knowing her to be so, without any information to the contrary. An altogether new sort of pain caused her to grimace at the reminder to the truth of her own experience. That truth still seemed like a story from someone else's life more often than not, but she believed it, if in a disconnected way. Each time she had reconnected with a member of the old team, they had chimed in with proof. Kaidan now added his, more personal and pained than the others.

The last thing she remembered before Miranda's disembodied voice and the too-bright lights of a medical facility was Joker's face in the evac-pod. He had been terrified, honest in a way she had never seen him; never wanted to see again. When she closed her eyes, she remembered the explosions, the light from flashes of fire. Not the sound. It never traveled in a vacuum. Then… nothing.

She knew the clinical steps of her own death. Her suit's almost instant decompression had her unconscious seconds after the ship had exploded. She had been asleep when the hypoxia rapidly set in. Only a few seconds of panic, and those had been followed by sleep. Not an altogether horrible way to die, in hindsight. Not for her, anyway.

Had the others seen the ship go down? That answers was an obvious yes. Regardless of how fast the pods traveled, the fires would have lit up the darkness brighter than the far away stars. And after? The politics of losing the Normandy to an unknown enemy, and the deaths of those crewmen beyond herself….

She had woken from a two-year dreamless sleep, but for him it had been a nightmare.

The tension in her body snapped and she hurled the reader across the room furiously. Her cry of, "Damn it!" heralded the abrupt destruction of the small machine. It hit the bulkhead with a satisfying crack before landing in the nebulous territory of her bed. As she regained control, she pressed her face into her hands.

Circumstances were against them, and time had been fickle on the best occasions, but there had never been time to just be. They had never had the opportunity to be anything but superior and subordinate; never except for every moment they had been of the same mind, protected each other and saved each other's lives… The night before Ilos.

For her, the fighting had begun again as if the first Normandy had never been destroyed. There was no time to explain herself on Horizon, and now they were thousands of light years apart with only emotionless text to explain away two lost years?

She had many questions, and more furious rebuttals to his accusations, but one stood out among the others. The only question that truly mattered was whether it would even be worth it to pursue a true reconciliation. Did Kaidan even want- would he be willing to try? Despite her feelings about his doctor-annoyance, the letter had not been all bad. His greeting on Horizon had not been _all_ bad… but did he think she was the enemy now? She wasn't. At least, she didn't think she had changed. They were still on the same side.

She glanced back to the holo where Kaidan's stoic face stared back up at her unhelpfully. But those familiar planes of his cheeks, the stubble on his jaw, his strong nose. They softened her, quieted the thundering in her before it could rage further.

Questions remained, but the mission was always before her, more important than it had ever been. One day Kaidan would understand that. Maybe once this was all over, they could… Hadn't that been his sentiment? Maybe then they could talk. Really talk, the way they never had even on the Normandy. And maybe not. Maybe it would never happen. Time had a way of seeing all things to an end, whatever end that might be.

Shepard pulled away from the desk and sighed heavily as the week fully settled onto her shoulders. There was no ignoring her tired now. Three steps forward, twenty steps back, and now no one was here to pick her up if she fell on her ass.

She stripped and did not bother to bathe, again, before falling into bed. Tomorrow. Before people started complaining about the smell.

If she did not have time to properly bathe, then she definitely did not have time to dwell on the oversimplified thoughts of a man who may or may not have been considering her a traitor. And she damn well did not have time to cry. Instead she swiped the heel of her hand over her cheek and buried her face against her pillow to absorb the evidence.

* * *

><p>Smooth, cool glass rested against his temple as he stared out at the four arms above him. Beyond was the milky purple nebula of the Widow and beyond that the expanse of the galaxy. Light years between each of the known star clusters and trouble still managed to find them. The aliens. The humans. Them. If he had been superstitious he would have thought it came looking for them.<p>

Kaidan pushed away from the window and ran a hand over his forehead. He felt another headache coming on. This one would be… intense.

As he reached his desk he scrolled a finger over his computer screen, pulling up a visual of how many reports he still had to annotate. It was not a motivating sight. Officially he was on shore leave, attempting to rest after his last run off station.

Downtime had not stopped brass from sending report after report back to him for more information of the Collector attack on Horizon. It was clear from their notations they believed him, but they still pressed for something else. Something more. There was just nothing more to give.

Anderson had vocalized his faith in the initial debriefing. The Councilor's horror had been palpable, and all of their Alliance superiors had affirmed the need to do something about the situation. He had been in full agreement, willing to head back into the field and _do_ _something_! Then the first order to come down had slapped him with weeks of vacation. It was bad enough to have a timeout thrown in his face, but before he could even try to enjoy it, they were sending is own reports back to him, subtly demanding information that did not exist.

If he had ever seen an example of sitting on collective hands, this was it.

Frustration was becoming an everyday experience since Horizon. The Alliance had the proof they had wanted, and he was ready to move, but they had him sitting in his own quarters grasping for further details of the attack, the enemy, their number, their actions, their motivations, the last of which he knew least of all. Did they think he had not told them all there was to know? Did they think one man's limited experience would yield a course of action while they waited for a miracle to drop in their lap? They thought they needed more information, and while they investigated, who knew how many more colonies would disappear the same way?

For all of his frustration, and there was plenty, stressing over his superiors' ineptitude was the least of his concerns. For all he knew that he should focus on what was coming, he had not been able to stop thinking of Shepard since their encounter. In the time since, the original shock had faded, but she was more in his thoughts than she had been in half a year.

Kaidan seated himself, feeling a new wave of exasperation toward his current assignment. She would not have taken such a passive route. She had proven in the past she was willing to get things done, and with precious few exceptions, she had always walked the straight and narrow to do so. He sighed. She certainly was not being passive now.

If one could understate a situation.

But Cerberus?

He did not know which was more dangerous, the activities they owned up to or the reputation they did not shy from. Even more, there was no way of telling how many of their actions had gone completely under the radar, those they kept secret for their own furtherance. He had heard rumors. Anyone in the Alliance had heard the same ones, of course, the things you told new N1s to scare them straight. And now Shepard was deep in their midst.

His brain still did not want to believe it, but the memories were there. She had stood beneath the defense tower, calmly stood in front of him with the small smile he remembered as well as his own. He had been relieved, almost overwhelmed with the feeling of gratitude at the sight of her, so different from what he remembered of the Normany's fate, of Joker's final report that she had not made the evac-pod. Then she had spoken, too casually for the reality of an exploding ship, and everything had fallen apart all over again.

Her armor had been modified Alliance issue, the N7 bearing the rank she had earned in another lifetime. But all those in her command had worn Cerberus whites, almost like she was legitimizing their actions, their existence, by leading them. She had denied working for them, claimed only that their goals were in alignment, but how long could she stand beside them and still stand against their methods? While they were supporting and supplying her, even? And if she didn't follow along with them, it was only a matter of time before they cut her loose.

It was so clear to him, why couldn't she see the danger? Forget the Collectors, though they were bad enough on their own, but Cerberus was just as dangerous. They had seen firsthand from Toombs the havoc the organization was willing to wreak on individuals for the greater good. But how could you save the greater good if you had to steam roll the little people who got in your way?

He resumed his posture and tried to keep his worry in check. Fear was not new, and he could work through it, but worry, fear for another person… it made him feel powerless, and that was not something he was dealing with well.

These questions about Cerberus, about Shepard with Cerberus, were not new. They had been with him from the moment they had parted company on the victimized colony. She had been vocal about her temporary allegiance with them, but actions always spoke more clearly, and with them she remained.

It had not stopped him from sending the letter.

A rhythmic triple beep interrupted before he could follow that train of thought. Almost gratefully he called out, "It's open," but did not move from his seat. His eyes remained on the screen as the pressurized doors hissed open, giving him a few moments for composure's sake. The tingle in his head had gone to a steady buzzing. It would be pounding soon.

"And here you are! I'm shocked, of course," a familiar voice called out as its owner rounded into the flat. Kaidan smirked, and freed a hand from the keyboard to wave behind him. He did not need to turn to see the man gesticulating theatrically. "I mean, truly, I looked all over. I'll tell you mate, you are an excellent hider. The next time it's red versus blue, forget it!" He paused, waiting for a reaction. When none came, Kaidan could practically feel his sighing from across the room. "Then I thought, 'If he's not in his flat, or in his flat, maybe he'll be in his flat…' And lo! Here you are. I have to tell you how gratifying this isn't."

"Was there something you needed, Oliver?" he asked without annoyance, resuming typing.

"No, no," was the quick assurance. The new arrival helped himself to the limited stock of alcohol in the corner. "Just checking in on you. Hol's almost over. Plus I have it on good authority that you haven't left this place in a week!"

"It's called shore leave," he corrected, "and I've been working."

"Well, they shouldn't call it 'shore leave' then, should they? Not much in the way of leave."

Neither commented on the exaggeration of Kaidan's reclusiveness. A week. Right. He knew it had only been two days and a lot of takeout, but Oliver knew exactly how hard to push. The visitor took a slow draught from his tumbler and eyed the computer from a distance as he made for a seat. Such was their relationship that Kaidan neither scolded nor waited on him.

"So are those the Horizon reports?" Oliver asked bluntly. Kaidan glanced over his shoulder for the first time, surprise on his face.

"How'd you-"

"Udina's been in a huff all week," he explained. Another sip of his iced liquor. "Anderson, too, but he's got more self-control."

"He's a good man," Kaidan followed, hoping to stay off of the subject of reports and the other thoughts they would bring. Bless Oliver and his distracting personality.

"Yes, well, too bad the Council doesn't give too shits about how good he is. They see all humans the same these days." Oliver sat heavily in a chair and gave his glass a shake. "Shepard really did us a good turn when she let the last ones' asses get blown to deep space," he added with unnecessary sarcasm. Kaidan turned back in time to see the man pick something off of his tongue. "I think the Keepers are shedding again."

"She didn't just let them die," he replied, and Oliver's turned cut to him over the glass. "It was a hard decision in the heat of a battle… She's not that kind of person, anyway." Brown eyes held green, letting his conviction affirm the truth. Everyone had something to say on the matter of Commander Shepard, and most in ignorance. He did not add to the account that he had been there, seen the struggle in her face in those split seconds. She had made the choice, and now they were all living with the consequences.

Oliver held the stare without looking away. Kaidan wondered if it was one of the tools in his arsenal that made him such an effective politician. Suddenly, he dropped his eyes to his glass and asked not so casually, "So what happened with you and Chloe?" A thoughtful sip. "She said you haven't asked her out again. I think she was rather sweet on you."

With a turn back to the computer, he found the home keys and resumed annotating, mostly involving new ways of saying, "Nothing further to add." Silence held the room as Oliver's patience extended. Then Kaidan answered, "Something came up."

"Ah." A clink of glass on glass. "Came up. Like those rumors of a not-so-dead commander."

Kaidan felt a surge of annoyance toward his friend, but said nothing. In that moment he could see her face as it had been on Horizon, shining healthily with the effort of holding off the Collectors. The skin was young and smooth, but there was age in her expression. Her words had been so casual that he had thought her different, save but for her eyes.

Her eyes had been the same, the very same eyes that had squinted in raucous laughter with Wrex, read reports in concern with Liara, smiled secretively at him. In those moments he had almost forgotten that she was his superior and not just an amazing woman.

"I'll take it from your silence that the rumors are true," Oliver ventured sincerely. Kaidan released a silent sigh and opened his eyes again.

"They are," he confirmed tonelessly. He was not a gossip, but he also did not see the need to hide information that was obviously not being more carefully monitored. It was his secondary objective on Horizon, after all, to investigate the rumors of her death. Officially, he was best suited for the job, but he had had to lay her to rest.

The room was amazingly hushed for a few long moments, and not for the first time, he wondered was going through his friend's head.

"You saw her on Horizon, didn't you?" Oliver asked quietly, eerily perceptive.

"And Cerberus," he thought to himself. He answered only, "I did."

The young attaché inhaled deeply, eyebrows pinched. "Strewth, mate… How are you going?"

He sighed, finally giving up the pretense of trying to work and swiveled in his chair. As awkward as it was to speak about something so personal, part of him wanted to. He had been tight-lipped on his feelings since the Normandy had gone down. Oliver was staring at him, rubbing the reacquired tumbler over his temple.

"I'm adjusting."

Oliver nodded stoically. "Good on ya for not lying." He smirked knowingly. "Though, I'm surprised I didn't have to try harder to get it out of you."

Kaidan barked a dry laugh and got out of his chair again. "Well," he said and made his way to the bar Oliver had occupied only minutes before. "We're friends, right?"

"Of course, mate," his guest answered automatically. Kaidan poured a drink quietly, waiting for Oliver to gather his thoughts, and not in the least bothered by the inevitable barrage of questions he knew would come from his acquiescence. Maybe he was too tired, after all. Maybe he was just tired of holding his thoughts inside.

"I'm not going to ask why this hasn't been more publicized," the young politician offered at last. "It only begs the question of why the hero's not here, not to mention not actually dead. Everyone knows what she did on Elysium… and for the Citadel, of course." Those were questions Kaidan himself had and more. How had they brought her back? Did she actually trust them? Why would she not come back to the Alliance? Questions he had, but he did not want to vocalize any of them, especially to Oliver who did not know her. As angry and sad as he was about the situation, it felt like a betrayal to ask those questions of anyone but her. Only she knew the real answers, anyway. "I mean, she was always _good_," Oliver added. "But no one's _that_ good. Avoiding death and all…"

Kaidan took a sip of his bourbon, the good bottle his folks had sent a while back, and said nothing. Oliver was doing a good job of making up his mind without him saying anything. A true politician, that one.

There was a shift from his chair as Oliver fixed him with a stare so firm that he felt his eyebrows rise as he noticed it. He held his glass and waited, wondering when he had gone on the defensive in his own home.

"You said we were friends, Alenko." Kaidan nodded, but Oliver did not care about agreement. He pushed on gently, but firmly. "As your friend, I think it's my job to tell you to _move_ on." He paused, as if he needed to let the words sink in. Braver for the silence that followed, he added, "Rinse this one out in the wash and let her go."

They were just words. Just words. Kaidan smiled humorlessly. Oliver paused and Kaidan glanced at him, his face carefully calm. It was true that he knew how far he could push, but that didn't mean he didn't skirt the edge whenever he chose, and he was closing in on it now.

"Alenko."

"Careful," he said gently. Oliver sighed heavily and made his way as if to pour another drink, but he only set his empty glass down by the full bottle. "Oliver, you're speaking like there's something I'm involved in, something to break off. There isn't. We haven't even been on the same assignment in two years," he clarified, trying to bring them both back to neutral before the tension could form.

"Right," Oliver answered heedlessly. "Because you take a gorgeous doctor out on a few dates and things go well. Then your former commander, who by the way is no longer part of the Alliance, is resurrected," spoken sarcastically, "from the dead and you dump the doctor and hole yourself in your apartment. Yes, I see. _I'm_ the one who's got the wrong of it." Kaidan opened his mouth to respond, his agitation and his headache growing, but was immediately cut off. "_Why_ are you doing this to yourself? If she's been alive this whole time, why wouldn't she contact you? Is Horizon the first time you spoke in two years?"

His eyes dropped to his glass to hide the answer on his face; that she had not been alive the whole time. If he believed her, she had been dead. Well, and truly dead. "She doesn't call, or vid, for _two years_, mate," he added emphatically. "It's shonky."

Kaidan stood and followed him to the bar, "Because…" he poured another drink for himself and another for Oliver while he was at it. As he passed him the glass, he held it for a moment, catching his friend's eye to hold it. "Listen, I know you mean well, and… it means a lot to me to have a friend around, but when it comes to Shepard you don't have the whole picture." He took a bracing sip of the liquid. "And it's not something I can tell you." He could see the frown on Oliver's face as his friends stepped away and sat.

This was the crux of the matter. He had loved her. He still loved her, and like hell would he sell her out on the well-intentioned exposition of a misinformed friend. Oliver caught the finality in his tone well enough, if not every nuance behind it. Always classy, he did not overtly press for more information.

"So that's it then? You've pretty much had your mind made up already, isn't that right?" he asked calmly. Kaidan nodded slowly. That was a fair assumption. Actually, that was the right of it. "So you've just gone letting me blow smoke?"

"If you want to take it that way…" he said with a chuckle. "But I think _you_ feel better, don't you?" he countered diplomatically. Oliver latched onto the concession. His posture improved and he sat up straighter, once more given direction.

"And why, pray tell, so generous?"

He finished the last of his drink with a toss of his head, unsure about anything regarding Shepard except for his conflicted feelings. "Because… sometimes it's nice to just have someone unequivocally on your side." And that was a true statement. Not that he needed coddling, but it was nice to feel like he had someone in his corner.

The man stared at him neutrally. With one quick statement Oliver was thinking he knew everything there was to know about the situation. Kaidan could tell because he was finally being quiet. Then again, it was possible that the man did know. His powers of conjecture were impressive. With that worrying thought in mind, he laughed.

"Get out of my head, Oliver."

Oliver shook his head and shrugged carefully, "I'm getting hungry. Just wanted to know if you want to eat out."

"Right."

"You'd prefer to order in, then?"

"Oliver."

"Hirashi's got a new delivery boy."

"If I buy will you leave off?"

"No need to be pushy, mate. You can buy."

With an unfeigned sigh, he reached for his credit chit as Oliver climbed out of his chair. Before he could hand over the money, Oliver waved him off.

"Relax, Alenko. I'm not going to spend all of this time harassing you and drinking your booze to steal your livelihood."

"Very kind of you. So go get my food, already," he retorted, turning back to his computer screen with a point towards the door. He relaxed a little at the joking, despite it being at his expense. Or maybe because of it. It felt good to laugh.

"Finally," Oliver sighed not-so-quietly.

The pressurized doors hissed once, then again, before Kaidan could really focus on the screen. His heart felt a little lighter thanks to a friend's intervention, but the lack of distraction brought back to mind the woman he had been thinking of immediately before the interruption. Weeks before the interruption.

In his heart he knew he was still in love with her, and seeing her on Horizon had been ten kinds of amazing, and just as painful. It wasn't a matter of opening old wounds, but inflicting them fresh. The pain now had faded somewhat, and duty had given it a chance to dull. Time, too. After the initial shock when he had had a chance to wrap his head around the fact that she was alive, and once he had calmed down from the near-death experience on the colony, he had gotten it together.

His letter had taken more than a few days to compose. The first drafts had not even been saved. They alternated between too angry, unfair to her, and too apologetic, which was unfair to him. He had persevered, though, and by the final draft he felt as though he had managed to strike a balance. He needed her to know how affected he had been, the logical and rational side of it instead of just venting his emotions on her. That much he had managed.

What was less certain was the nature of her relationship with the extremists. She had not said much about it, and the lack of transparency between them still bothered him. For all of the questions he had, he could form his own answers, be left to his own thinking about them, but he wanted to hear what she had to say. He needed to hear her justification for it. If that was months from now, or years, it did not matter, but something in him would not rest until he knew.

The letter was out there now, racing through channels that he had been led to believe would reach her. If some hacker did not pick it up along the way. If Cerberus did not vet all her correspondence. From an Alliance officer. From a former lover.

Kaidan shook his head against ifs and maybes. They never helped, and he wanted less than ever to be consumed by uncertainty. A year of his life had been spent second-guessing and guilty, and that time was over. He was stronger now, and despite Oliver's mothering, he had no intention of succumbing to darker thoughts.

The ball was in her court now. Her response would let him know how to act.

By the time Oliver returned he had finished "verifying" the reports. Thinking of Shepard had solidified his resolve in more ways than one. That and the bourbon. The notations were what they were, and they would not change.

A silicon container of fried noodles was passed to him, which he took dubiously.

"Friends buy friends cheap noodles?" he asked flatly. Oliver's face did not twitch as he broke his chopsticks.

"Friends don't let friends eat shonky meat," he responded with mock severity.

Kaidan shrugged and they settled into the meal quietly. They ate in silence, breaking every few minutes for Oliver to gossip about news from the Presidium and the aliens' offices, but calling the act "catching up." Not much later when Oliver had had his fill of catching up, and Kaidan's "at my limit" face was coming out, the attaché began to see himself out.

"Thanks for dinner, man," Kaidan called, walking the obligatory few steps behind his guest.

"Sure, sure… Hey!" he said suddenly, and drew up short of the doorway. His expression turned serious, and Kaidan prepared himself for a last ditch effort at invasive questioning. The tension rose between them until Oliver's face slackened as quickly as a dropped thermal clip, "If you're not going to have a go at Chloe, do you mind if I-"

"Good night, Oliver," he said with a snort and gave them man's shoulder a firm shove.

"That's not an answer!" he smirked as the door closed in his face, leaving Kaidan frowning in mild irritation. Friends were supposed to annoy you intensely, right?

He did not know why Oliver had attached himself the way he had. After an initial misunderstanding in which Kaidan had tried to let him down gently, Oliver had laughed in his face and very diplomatically informed him that the officer was not his type. From that point they had eased into a comfortable friendship that Kaidan still did not quite understand.

He had seen the man's formal side in action in the diplomatic suites. For all of his "strewth!" this and "dinky do!" that in private, when put in front of a Volus or a Turian and he could dance the dance with the best of them. That he did the same with his friends to a lesser extent, Kaidan assumed was simply a hard habit to break. His natural pleasantness effused into a room without compromising his own position, and he had a way of ferreting out information without seeming to try. It was admirable for his occupation and was the kind of ambiguous duplicity that left Kaidan uneasy.

Yet despite the man's more dubious tendencies in politics, Kaidan liked him. He had meant what he had said earlier. There was something bolstering about having a friend who would bully you into action or help pick you up when you could not do it yourself.

How their friendship would last through Shepard and Cerberus, only time would tell. He was getting good at waiting.

* * *

><p>Shepard took a few steps toward the shuttle. It had taken a few days to sort out the mess left on Aeia, the women and the ends they would each find. She had not wanted to leave them without seeing them safely off of this planet, to a new phase of life. After everything they had been put through she could not look into their pitiful faces and simply tell them to wait; help was on the way. No, they had waited long enough. Regardless that it was true, and help was coming, leaving them was unacceptable.<p>

So they had stayed. She, Jack, and Jacob stayed planet-side with the few supplies they had brought down, and they had stayed. Only, the women would become very uneasy whenever Jacob got too close to them, and Jack saw something too familiar in their terror to do anything but loathe them. The biotic had arranged whatever leftover supplies she could for their use and then had done as much as possible to stay away from the victims.

When the Alliance rescue shuttle finally arrived, Jack had cursed herself blue in the face with relief. She had promptly left for the SR-2's shuttle and had not been seen since.

Only when the last of the survivors had boarded had she turned to their own shuttle to see Jacob standing silently near. He was not looking at her, but at the transport vessel in vertical lift off. As she approached, she could see the haunted feeling in his eyes. His emotion carried over his face, unhidden but completely controlled.

It was not until she was nearly upon him that he turned to her. That control smoothed his features into calm, and she frowned.

"Are you all right, Mr. Taylor?"

"I meant what I said before," he replied firmly. Dark eyes held hers, and there was no hesitation in them. "My father owned his mistakes. He was a different man. A good man. It doesn't change who I am or what I know. I've already mourned the man he used to be."

She nodded with understanding, and they both began to walk.

"That's not quite an answer," she replied, "but take your time sorting things out."

"The _only_ concern I have," he began with some heat as they climbed into the shuttle. Their arrival was the only signal Jack needed and she immediately began to start up the engines. "…is what happened to the crew. What Taylor did to them was inexcusable." They settled into seats across from one another, and Jacob immediately looked out to Aeia's terrain.

She followed his line of sight, taking in the beauty of it. The Hugo-Gernsback sat heavily beneath them as they rose into the air, breaking a promising vista into something darker… Memory attached itself to objects, to places. In the cockpit, Jack said nothing. Her silence was more ominous than any raging.

Shepard waited, bracing her foot against the floor, sad, but comforted in the knowledge that the survivors at least had hope now. Anything was better than waiting another minute on the planet.

"Ten years they waited," he spoke softly. "I hope to God that it wasn't ten years for them… Neurological damage can make things less understandable, right?" She did not know if the question was rhetorical or not, but she had no answer for it and remained silent.

"Don't bet on it," Jack's venomous answer came from the cockpit. Silence fell after that, broken by the muted burn of thrusters pushing them back towards the Normandy.

A short moment later, Jacob added, "She's right." She looked away from the atmo to watch him. "Hell is hell, short or not, and at any rate it wasn't short for their families. I'm going to hold onto the peace I've made, but what about them? Their all about to get slammed with something they have no way of anticipating." Shepard nodded in agreement, but he was still not looking at her…

She inhaled deeply, watching his handsome features twist into something almost remorseful. She made it a point to listen to her crew, to weigh their words respectfully each time they spoke privately with her, but this- Jacob's words had hit her in a way that he had not intended.

Hit with something they were not prepared for… and years later, too. The thick clouds around them thinned and faded, revealing an electric blue stratosphere that washed their party in blue reflection. She settled into her seat and stared at the blue. It saturated to deep cobalt, cold and beautiful. Then all it once it was resolute black, speckled with stars too far away to fathom.

She wondered if his mind was still on Aeia, despite what he had professed. No.

She stopped her thoughts. No. They would not get anywhere second-guessing each other all of the time. They had come far enough, through enough, for a modicum of trust. If Jacob wanted to push forward, she would trust him to do so wisely.

For her part, her mind was in her cabin with a cracked, still functioning, datapad that had gone too long unattended.

"Commander," Jacob's voice interrupted. She turned sharply and waited as his expression took on a different type of solemnity. "Thank you." He watched, her, waiting, and she did the only thing she could do.

"Anytime, Jacob."

Back on the Normandy, she walked with purpose that the crew neither questioned nor interrupted. When Jacob departed the elevator for the armory, Kelly turned, ready to call out about some new message or observation. The yeoman took one look at the Commander's face and sucked in the words she had been preparing.

"Get some rest, Mr. Taylor," Shepard called just before the elevator doors closed again. The planet had affected them all, but now she knew. She knew what she had to do, how to respond.

"Hurry up," she muttered to the lift.

She was barely in her cabin when she called, "EDI, note to Joker and Miranda. I'm not to be disturbed unless there's an emergency."

"Noted, Shepard. Compiled and transmitted. Anything else, Commander?"

"That's all for now," she grunted as she flopped onto her bed and reached under the spare pillow. Her fingers skittered over the smooth surface, catching a split second on the crack she had left weeks before. She pulled out the reader and stared at its dull surface before quickly activating it. As she sank onto the bed she disabled the machine's wireless link and pulled up Kaidan's letter.

After initially receiving it, she had tortured herself with it for days. In private moments, she had perused its nuances and hidden meanings, of which there were none. It had all been very straightforward and honest, just like the man himself. Cerberus' paranoia was starting to get to her.

When she had finally exhausted the text she was as much annoyed with herself as with him, spending so much time on something with no resolution and no clear intention of how to respond. She had enacted her Will, and put the letter aside. Not far aside. It was under her unused pillow, the one that never moved, and she had not looked at it again. For a few days at a time, even, she was able to not think about it.

Then Aeia happened, and Jacob's understanding of the aftermath had struck her harder than Ronald Taylor's actions. The past was behind her, and her life was still before her.

She had planned to wait until after the Collectors had been dealth with, but there was no clear timeline on this mission. They had yet to find a pathway through the Omega-4 relay. The Collectors were not leaving, and she had already died once. She _had_ to deal with them.

What she _wanted_ was to see Kaidan, to know if there was still a chance for them, if not for something more than at least the friendship that had been between them. She had given into the temptation to think about Horizon, to work through the drama their reunion had created, and now her mind would not rest until there was resolution. For good or… not, she would see it through. Hopefully… well, one miracle at a time.

The letter was composed quickly and without hesitation. There were no second drafts. She knew exactly what to say.

When she was finished, she stretched back and onto the bed, and pulled the datapad to her stomach. As she stared at the ceiling, her mind was racing with plans and options. She needed channels for actualization that did not involve Cerberus. For one, there was no guarantee that it would even reach him. They had allowed his communique to her, but would they give her the same courtesy? Would they stop it and then feign ignorance of its ill delivery? That was an unacceptable possibility.

The second, and perhaps stronger chance, was that he would react poorly to the letterhead. He had been very clear about his mistrust of the organization and she did not fault him for it. Cerberus had… well, they had done plenty of bad shit, but not her cell and not on her watch. She had also come to know that not all members of Cerberus were the Illusive Man. Not all members of Cerberus were even Cerberus. Samara, Chakwas, Joker, Jack especially. She considered herself in their number; one whose goals aligned with the destruction of the Collectors.

She would have to ready her answers for questions about the organization, and there would be plenty of them. The problem would be whether or not he found her honest answers satisfactory or not. On that count, she was certain she could do nothing but present her case.

The ideas formed as the bubbling aquarium lulled her to sleep. Her list was getting shorter.

She would face the Collectors, but before she did all unfinished business would be cleared. Even, hers. Maybe, just possibly, when all of this was done…

She stopped herself.

One miracle at a time.

* * *

><p>Kaidan climbed out of the taxi, scowling. His eyes took a quick survey of the terminal; it was blessedly thin of bodies, as empty as Zakera Ward ever seemed, anyway. He had been convinced to dine out for the evening; a quiet dinner among some new friends at a turian-owned café. A gamble, if he had ever heard one, but apparently there were salarians on the staff for quality control. After the day he had had, he was looking forward to a distraction.<p>

Brass were keeping their heads in the sand, as per usual. One dismissal he could understand as cautious. They would want reasonable evidence. Two dismissals he did not like, but he could accept. Horizon was not an isolated incident, but they were concerned that causations for the different disappearances were not actually linked. The Alliance was leading galactic policy now, and its resourced were strained enough, between patrolling three times the space it had before and maintaining normal operations on Earth, there were no spare ships for chasing possibilities. Or swarms of bugs that sounded mostly impossible. They had really liked that part.

Three.

Three refusals of the evidence, despite the fact that each victimized colony after Horizon bore the same signs of complete lack of resistance. There were no fights, no distress calls, only mass kidnappings, and no colonists ever returned. He knew exactly how those had occurred.

And the Alliance was sitting on its hands. It made him frustrated enough to almost… understand.

"Human," a deep voice growled at him as he rounded the main terminal kiosk. He stopped short at the krogan that had suddenly invaded his personal space. Its gravelly, yellow face stared up at him with dark eyes. They scanned him intently and for a moment he regretted not wearing armor. He still had his side arm, but the pistol would do little to stall a krogan. Biotics were a possibility, but he would probably destroy the kiosk and a cab or two in the process- not to mention the pedestrians.

The krogan laughed to himself. Herself? He never could tell with krogans.

"You're the one they call Kaidan? From clan Alenko?" it asked him with the same gruff voice; in a possibly softer tone. Neither the tone nor the question made him feel any better.

"I am," he answered, feeling no need to bluff. Not until the second krogan appeared. His shoulders tensed as it rounded the kiosk to stand behind the first.

"Relax, Alenko," the first chided in response to the tension in his face. "If we were going to attack there would have less talking and more death."

"Thanks. That's very reassuring."

"No problem. I was told to give this to you. It's from a battle master you know."

Kaidan looked down, almost expecting to see a weapon and was surprised to see a datapad instead. It was functioning and ready to peruse, and the krogan looked completely uninterested in its contents. He took it with only the slightest hesitation.

"Hey, if you're done, let's go find a fish," the second one spoke intently, not looking at Kaidan or the first krogan."

The pair departed without another word to him. He floundered for a moment before muttering a quick thank you, but they were already out of hearing range. Or didn't care.

Kaidan blinked at the strangeness of the situation before glancing at the machine warming his hand. It was a small, wireless model that would require docking to transfer messages. His heart leaped at the implications. Only one person would go through the trouble of sending a completely wireless message. He took a step out of direct traffic and opened it.

There was only one file on the front screen that he opened with no hesitation. He glanced around as it loaded. No one was looking at him, and he did not recognize any faces, human or alien. The loaded page flashed white into completion and he looked down at the sparse text.

_I have business on the Citadel that will keep me there for a week. Would you meet with me? –N7_

Shepard.

He froze as he read over the message again, again, and once more. It had to be her. Delivered by krogan, though? From a battle master? That much sounded like her. He glanced back to where he had last seen them, but they were gone.

He checked the text again. There was nothing special about it; no markings, no pronouns. It was completely bland, but it had to be her. She had gotten his message and responded, and she did not want Cerberus to know. He tried to tamp down the rising thrill in his chest. It was easy enough when he looked at the datapad for the fifth time.

It was so plain. Anyone could have sent the message. Cerberus could have sent the message, after intercepting his original communication. That squeezed the hope in his chest, dropping a hot worry into his gut in its place. Even if it was Shepard, and there was no guarantee, all it asked was to meet. There were no explanations. No apologies. He grimaced, willing the letter to give up more secrets. As expected, it did not.

Kaidan paused and took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead wearily. Was he really this paranoid? Or was this level of caution a good thing? She was just being careful. He had to believe it. Yet, it was almost to the point that he did not care. He just wanted to see her again.

He could not allow himself to be reckless. She was being careful. He would be as well, in all the ways that he could.

As he rounded the corner to the café, he saw Oliver, Chloe at his side, an elcor, and an asari sitting at the large table. He resisted the urge to grab the datapad that had been slipped into his pocket. He would be careful in all the ways that mattered. Starting now.

A few hours later Shepard was plotting their course through the Dakka System, still reeling from the explosion in Miranda's office between her and Jack. It was not just a talent that Jack had to muddy the water, but she acted like it was her calling. In fairness, Miranda's personality was not one to give an apology easily, especially with her back to the wall. Those two were oil and water in the extremes and mediating between them felt like babysitting. Only Jack's sense of self-preservation had kept her from starting a small war in Miranda's office, and Shepard was not taking any chances.

She was almost relieved when the icon on her desktop flashed beneath the schedule with a new message indication. Automatically, she flicked a finger over the screen, and the itinerary faded as the message took precedence.

It was a plain text; even the IP address was blocked. There was only one word to read, and sas she did she smiled.

_Yes_.

The message was deleted quickly, fingers running smoothly over the keyboard. With a final glance at the itinerary, she forwarded the new instructions to Joker and then stepped away from the terminal.

Garrus and Thane would be perfect. She did not expect the meeting to get heavy, but she had to be prepared. Her selfishness could go to a point, but the mission was still before her. She trusted Garrus with her life. Thane could disappear completely when he wanted to. He could see things she could not, be where she could not, and, maybe it was foolish, but she trusted him. She trusted them both, and they both had business on the Citadel, too.

Three birds with one stone.

* * *

><p>In her initial trip to the Presidium so many months ago, she had been a little overwhelmed by the speed of internal transit. It was mostly the perspective change; moving from arm to arm, ward to ward, in such a short time. Then she had acclimated and begun to silently curse the slow-paced transportation.<p>

Never had she done so more than she did now in silent frustration. Anderson had been as good as his word, that his door was always open for her. They had talked for a while as candidly as they ever had when she had been under his command. Learning about Kaidan's involvement on Horizon had been eye-opening; that he had been there as much to investigate her as much as set up defenses against the Collectors.

It did not change anything as far as they were concerned. Doing his job did not lessen him in her eyes. Her plans were the same as they had been before she had learned it.

Between Sidonis, Kolyat, her two teammates, and the coordinating both objectives had required, it had taken the better part of the week she had allotted to Citadel time. Joker had better be making the most of all the free time. At the very least, she could count on Miranda to accomplish the work she had assigned them in her absence.

Now, despite the days they had spent on vengeance and intervention, she did not feel her usual weariness. She felt energized, anxious. Nervous. The yes had come just over two weeks ago, and since she had made arrangements to meet, all of the memories she had avoided had come back with startling clarity, as if waiting gave them time to recuperate.

Ashley had died on Virmire, and it was not a series of memories she liked to revisit, but she could not help but wonder if she would have cared as much if Ashley had survived. If Kaidan had been the one to die- no, the one left behind, would she be working so hard to meet with the Chief?

Shepard stared at the fading Presidium as their shuttle sped on. Ashley had been so wary of aliens' interests that she might have readily joined with Cerberus; just as Joker had, but Kaidan was different. He had been the one to readily, easily inform her that aliens were just like humans, "Jerks and saints." Said easily because he believed it and had nothing to prove to anyone. So he was with all things; self-controlled and… easy. There was never second-guessing or doubting him.

He was a good man, and they had been of the same mind so many times during their ordeal. What had begun as casual flirting to relieve stress had quickly grown into something easy and natural. The only thing standing between them had been regulations. And rank. And the fate of the galaxy.

How the hell had anything worked out in the first place?

"You're pacing," Thane's croaking voice interrupted. She glanced back to him, noticing they were almost to their stop, and noting his small smile. He did not pressure her with questions, and said nothing else, but she got the firm impression that he understood more than he let on.

"I'm a little nervous," she admitted vaguely, turning back to the window. While she had asked both men to help her, she had not been completely forthright on details; mentioned that she was meeting an old acquaintance and might need backup. She had not mentioned that the old acquaintance was a former lover, and their almost-teammate. Some things were irrelevant and some things were too personal. If Garrus had guessed at anything, he had respected her privacy and merely agreed to assist.

Thane stepped up to the window next to her and asked carefully, "Is it more important to be right or to be together?"

Her neck nearly cramped with the speed of its turn, and she stared hard at the assassin. He stared back with the same dead calm she had come to associate with him. His placating smile was gone, and though he was not unkind, there was a new seriousness on his face to accompany the question.

How did he know? Did he really know anything, or was he just extrapolating? It was as jarring to hear such applicable words as the manner in which they were expressed, which was very unlike Thane, and more emphatic for it. Probably his point.

"It's not so black and white," was her answer.

This time he did smile, a sad turn of his eyes, his lips, "It never is."

By the time they reached the suite they had rented for the day, Garrus was waiting for them. He had opted out of visiting the Presidium for concern of running into Venari Pallin, and had instead embarked on a mission for the Commander. The slightly disgruntled look on his face meant everything had gone well.

She could hear the half-annoyed, half-amused tone in his voice as he spoke, " You should have seen all the strange looks I got buying these." He passed her a bag that she took quickly, not bothering to hide her amusement. It was not often that she got to see him this kind of flustered. The contents did not receive her patience, but were quite ruthlessly dumped onto the coffee table in front of their couch.

Immediately, she began to pair possible articles of clothing. There were more than she had expected, and she wondered what kind of hit her credit chit had taken. A blouse next to trousers, next to a skirt, with a vest.

"Why, again, was I the one sent to do this?" the turian asked from behind her, watching her sort the articles with only a little interest.

"One, it was funny," she replied distractedly. How was she supposed to do this? It had been years since anything but Alliance blues, and even before that they Reds had not given her much time for dress up. Garrus indulged a sigh, and Thane watched on in amusement. A promising swath of charcoal-colored fabric caught her eye and she began to fish it out.

"And two," she said, flapping the dress out in front of her. "These clothes are clean."

"Ah," he answered with understanding. "What do you want to do with your armor?"

"No point in trashing it. It's good armor. Can you just… put it away? Just in case?" Garrus did as he was asked, buying his service with a long-suffering sigh.

"Next time just send against some mechs instead."

"Will do."

"Heavies."

"Picking you up loud and clear, Garrus. Thanks." She rolled her eyes at what, for him, amounted to histrionics. Had she done half as much complaining in confronting Sidonis?

Shepard trotted to her room and began to strip without closing the door. As she changed, she called, "So it's simple. I'll go to the meeting spot and wait for contact. You both will stay out of sight as backup if things get hairy. I don't anticipate that they will, but just in case. If it's a trap, I don't want to walk into it blindly." For now, she could not afford to be grounded while the Collectors ran rampant, and did not plan on submitting to any attempts to do was the worst the Alliance would do. She hoped, anyway. It was a moot point to worry over it.

These words they had heard before, and she knew they were more than equal to the task of waiting for a distress call, but it felt good to have her hands on something concrete; anything she could to keep her nervousness down.

"Shepard, I appreciate a plan as much as the next person," Garrus' voice carried. "But are you really worried about Alenko? _Kaidan_ Alenko?"

Annoyed at being found out, and annoyed that she should be surprised at all, she poked her head into the open area, asking, "Does everyone know my business?"

"Not everyone," Thane soothed diplomatically while Garrus hid a smirk, "but between us we figured it out." She glanced between them and withheld the glare she felt like giving.

"You didn't see his face on Horizon, Garrus," she called as she withdrew. The fabric slipped over her head easily, a dress and a silky foreign mass that was distracting. "And he's made it clear that he doesn't trust Cerberus." She hated playing her own devil's advocate, but it had saved her life more than once.

"Who does?" the turian called.

"And by extension, me," she clarified. "If there's nothing else to say, what else could this be but a trap?"

"It's possible," Garrus conceded, ever practical. "But the Kaidan I know is too noble for such tactics."

"I hope you're right," she replied, stepping back into the common area. Her fingers were busy securing her earbud into place, and her mind was trying not to be too pessimistic.

"Then again," he amended, "Sidonis taught me to keep friends close and-"

"Garrus," she interrupted, "Not helping."

"Sorry, Shepard," he replied contritely, though without much sympathy. The words were enough to quench her annoyance and her nerves. "I'm just being realistic." She sighed, feeling embarrassed for losing herself to her annoyance and shook her head.

"And that's why you're here, " she said by way of apology. "Thank you. Thank you both for being here," she added to Thane, who nodded. "So…" she held her hands out to her sides. "How do I look?"

"…"

"Right. Nevermind."

She veered toward the door as Garrus called, "Good hunting, Shepard."

Zakera Ward was a good choice for a meeting. Not a great choice, and not her first choice, but a good one. It was less conspicuous for humans, and it was close to C-Sec; a good balance for both of them. She felt a well of gratitude towards Kaidan that she tried to tamp down. It was easier to stay calm when she reminded herself all of the trouble she could still get into; being overhead or seen by the wrong people.

She shook her head as she climbed out of the taxi. Cerberus was making her paranoid; she was tired of games and Kaidan was one of the few people she should not have had to second-guess.

The Dark Star was much like any other dance club she had ever been too, fewer strippers and no batarians trying to poison the local human population, but otherwise the same. It was just the right amount of loud flashing lights for partying.

It was completely unlike Kaidan, and the thought made her stomach clench.

She sat for a long time by herself, shifting her eyes between the door and the other sights of the bar. She did not drink, wanting to keep a clear head, though it probably would have made the wait faster, made her nerves more relaxed. What was he getting at, making her wait?

When she began to seriously question whether or not he would show, a man boldly sat in the seat reserved for her former lieutenant. He was human, not bad looking with a charming smile, but his presence caused a flash of annoyance so strong that she could not keep it from her voice.

"Not interested," she said, pointedly, and glanced past him carefully while keep him in her periphery.

He smirked and countered, "But you haven't even heard my offer!"

Glancing back to the door, she said with the same finality, "I'm sure your offer would be much better suited elsewhere." Then, restraining her annoyance, she added, "As I said, I'm not interested."

"I knew it. There's someone else, isn't there?" he said with a small sigh.

Shepard turned an even gaze on him and held his eyes, "Yes." This man had no idea who she was, and she was in no position for name-dropping. He stared back, matching her intensity, unintimidated. Then he smiled and glanced away.

"I figured as much." He sighed. "When Kaidan sent me to retrieved you, he said you might take some convincing." That got her attention. She finally took a good look at the man as he stood, adjusting his jacket's collar. Something in his manner had completely shifted, from an annoying try-hard to something more threatening and worthy of attention. Her expression amused him, if the smile was any indication.

"Oh, now's the time for convincing, hey?"

"He got a handler… I think I'm impressed," she said flatly. Not that she enjoyed it or felt good about it, but she could appreciate his effort at caution.

"Flattered, though personally, I've yet to be impressed," the handler retorted with an unpleasant smile.

"Ah… and a friend." It should not have surprised, this tactic of Kaidan's, but it all seemed so back door.

"You don't much look like a Spectre," he barreled on as if she had not spoken. "Or dead for that matter."

"This isn't an interview," she said as she stood slowly, hoping to cut off whatever track he was wanting to run. Like some ponce who did not know her was going to steam roll her in a juvenile attempt to dress her down. "Take me to-"

"Kaidan Alenko happens to be the most decent human on this station," he interrupted quickly, his face gone hard. There was nothing of the playful young man who had descended on her table, but a fierce and determined friend. "Maybe the only one." Her own face was as blank as the space around them. But she heard every word he threw at her, and she realized that he was the obstacle between her andher real goal at the moment. The option came to mind that she could put the pressure on in kind. Wiothout a sidewarm it would only take a few motions to take him down. Even if he had a weapon he would not be able to draw it before she had him on his back begging her to let him tell where Kaidan was… but if Kaidan had sent him, he would know, and as smuch as she did not wat to be raked over the coals, she did not really want to hurt his handler either. The urge to threaten him passed as she remembered Thane's words from the shuttle. Right or reconciled?

"…and I may not be a Spectre, but-"

"That's enough," she said calmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He broke off, staring at her as if she might attack. Ignoring what impact his reaction might have on her reputation on the Citadel, she pressed on, withdrawing her hand. "You're right… Somewhat. Kaidan is a good man, and I'm not here to play him. I'm not playing at all, but I don't like being played either."

He listened after all. She could tell because his face had become coolly disdaining. She did not like him, but she liked it even less when people made decisions that affected her without a full account of the facts. If he was willing to listen she could tolerate him.

At the same time, she was glad that Kaidan had people to watch his back. He was not completely surrounded by inept bureaucrats or apathetic aliens. She might not like the handler, but he seemed intelligent enough. Plus, she had to give him credit for having the balls to meet with her, confront her. For most, hearing of her Spectre status was enough to solve a tense situation.

"Lucky for you, I'm not the one who needs convincing." He turned slightly and gestured toward the exit. She eyed him briefly before she began toward it. He fell into step beside her. "I'm Oliver Ryan, by the by," he added in a slightly warmer tone.

She managed a tight smile that made him laugh, but did not bother with small talk. This meeting had been too long in coming to screw it up because of some misguided sense of pride, and right now nothing good would come out of her mouth if she opened it. They walked out of the Dark Star with Garrus' words muttering in her ear. He had taken a perch just outside of the club and did she need backup? The handler looked a little soft, so she was probably fine, but they would be following. Just say the word, Commander, and-

Shepard twisted her fingers silently, a pinching motion that silenced the stream of offers in her ear, and finally she could hear herself think again.

Oliver led her to a quieter neighborhood of the Ward. They stopped outside a café tended by asari. It was warmly lit, even just inside the main door, and richly paneled with wood grain that softened its appearance to something completely un-Citadel. Its ambiance calmed her instantly and made her wish she had ventured to Zakera more in her pre-Cerberus days instead of spending so much time in the Presidium.

There was a wait just inside the foyer, but Oliver navigated them to the front of the line. She followed him confidently, internally wary about upsetting the other patrons. The hostess, however , moved them through with a knowing smile. They navigated through the low lit, narrow corridors, and she wondered briefly how much space had been rented for the café's operation. It was positively labyrinthine.

They finally paused at the end of a hallway, turning off into an alcove where sat Kaidan Alenko. The hostess left directly, but she could feel Oliver hovering a pace behind her. The tension was immediate, more personal than any assignment to date, but there was no time to dwell on comparisons because Kaidan was standing and her feet were moving toward him.

He looked good. Tired. There were a few grays peppering his hair that seemed new. She smiled wanly, not wanting to know how she looked through equally curious eyes.

Oliver took it upon himself to introduce them in annoying stage whisper that he probably thought very clever. She released a slow breath, one that made Kaidan smile, since the danger of compromising their meeting had passed. Kaidan did not look at the handler, but lifted a hand to his ear and removed a small ear piece. He reached beyond her to hand it to Oliver. The man accepted it with a grim smile, muttering under his breath.

"Nice show?" she asked as the bud disappeared.

"Just trying to play it cautiously," he answered in a voice she remembered well.

She nodded, satisfied, and replied, "That's good. Smart." With a sweep of her hand, she removed her own earbud, garnishing the motion with a small smile. Kaidan watched as she lifted the device closer to her mouth and gently said, "Go ahead and head back to the ship whenever you're ready. This might take a while."

The soft smile on Kaidan's face thinned at her tone, but he nodded in agreement.

"Well…" Oliver said after a moment. "I guess I'll just be on my way, then. Three being a crowd, and all." He stepped back into the hallway, saying, "A pleasure to meet you, Commander." She had nothing to say to that, but he seemed to realize that he had not put himself on her favorite persons' list.

"Thanks for your help, Oliver," Kaidan spoke.

"No problem," he answered lightly. "I always like being bait."

She could see it in Kaidan's face when Oliver was truly gone. In privace, she lifted her arms to embrace him as he simultaneously extended a hand to shake. Both paused awkwardly, but she recovered first, dropping one hand completely and extending the other for the more formal gesture.

The careful expression on his face softened, and she felt that he understood in more ways than one how she was trying. With a smile he took her offered hand firmly. She squeezed his hand just as he pulled her to him and wrapped his free arm around her. The execution was slightly awkward, but she gave him points for timing and surprise factor.

This was… good. If they could stay in this open frame of mind then everything would be fine. All they had to do was to listen to one another openly.

"Well," she said softly, freely, "This is going better than I planned."

It was the first time that she realized he was out of uniform, certainly out of armor. He had come so vulnerably, and with this kind of greeting…? She smiled as they pulled apart, to see him smiling as well.

When they made to sit, he pulled her chair out before she could reach it, and the action turned a corner quicker than she had anticipated. It was more than kind, which Kaidan was, or helpful, which most of her friends were. A tender feeling opened in her, and that was a road that she was not sure both of them were willing to walk. She stared at him as he sat, still smiling that small secret smile, playing his cards tighter than he did in the past. When he saw her expression the smile dimmed and he folded his hands in his lap.

Her concern was overshadowed when their waitress came, offering a wine list. In unison, they ordered water, seeing each other with cooler expressions. This was not a date or a casual dinner for old friends. It only took a simple gesture to remind them of such, and they were both brought back to neutral territory. They both ordered and sat in silence until the waitress departed.

"You have questions…" she began steadily. "I don't know that I have answers for all of them, but…" Her words died as she opened her hand and looked down at the ear piece. With a decisive motion, she dropped it into her water glass. She had told Garrus and Thane to move on, but there was no guarantee that they would not listen in, respectful of her orders as they were. Shepard was more than willing to help them whenever and however she could with their problems. They were her crew, risking their lives, and she owed them no less, but it felt wrong to involve them more than necessary with her issues. It was enough to have them fighting the Collectors.

"Whatever I _can_ tell you, I will," she finished.

He nodded seriously, appreciatively, sharing her mood for the reason they were here. This was meant to clear the air, expectations included, but with that thought in mind she could relax.

"Let's start at the beginning, then, if you don't mind." It almost sounded like a request, but for the authority in his tone and the expression on his face.

"Fair enough." She had been more prepared for questions about the present, but she could do this. This was good. "It was Collectors who attacked the Normandy that day." Years. Not weeks. "I got Joker into the evac-pod, but we were still under attack." She pushed through on, distancing herself from the memory, as though it had happened to someone else. Dreams told a different story, but she would be damned if she let memories cripple her while conscious. "The Collectors were after us, Kaidan. Or me. I don't know why, but it's one of the things I want to find out... Joker was in the pod, and the next thing I remember I was in the Lazarus cell medical facility of Cerberus- mostly intact and completely alive." He nodded in understanding, but his mouth remained closed.

"Two agents named Miranda Lawson and Jacob Taylor introduced me to the Illusive Man."

"Cerberus' leader. So they actually call him the Illusive Man?"

"Well, it's not the name on his birth certificate, if that's what you're asking." Kaidan smiled indulgently, but without amusement. "I don't know his real name. Miranda is one of his top agents, but I doubt she even knows his name. If she does, she hasn't shared it with me."

Before they could get bogged down in uninformative speculation, she moved on. She had more to say about the Illusive Ass, but that would come later, including her own skepticism and mistrust of him. "I tested the authenticity of Cerberus' claim on Freedom's Progress." Shepard could see the sharp interest in his eyes at the mention of that particular colony. It was hardly the first of the victimized settlements, but its prominence had caused it to receive more publicity than most of the others. Even non-aliens knew its fate.

"Some quarians were there. Tali was there."

"Tali'Zorah?" he asked curiously, clarifying to make sure they were talking about the same Tali. Shepard nodding, folding her hands on the tabletop. "What was she doing there?"

"I don't know. She said she couldn't tell me details, but one of the reasons she and her team were there was to retrieve a young quarian who had been helping the colonists as part of his pilgrimage. He was mostly unharmed and had managed to piece together some security footage of Collectors stealing the population." Kaidan nodded thoughtfully, his expression hard. She nodded, "You know what that means, don't you? They didn't take him. They are truly only after humans. For now." She sighed, and settled against the back of her chair, feeling more relaxed in explaining the factual. It made the next statement easier. "Freedom's Progress was enough to show me how deep we are in this, what made me agree to work with Cerberus."

She was watching his reaction, waiting for him to explode as he had on Horizon. His expression was upset. He had not changed his opinion, but he had yet to walk away. Not exactly what she had been hoping for, but he was still listening.

"Right now my goal- my _only_ goal, is to stop the Collectors." She stopped, looking at her folded hands. "To that end, I'm putting together a team of elite operatives to stop the Collectors." How much time had that taken on its own?

"Do you trust them?" he asked lowly.

"Cerberus?" she asked with mild surprise, already shaking her head. "No, not in the least. The operatives? …Most of them," she admitted, thinking of Jack and Miranda; Grunt straight out of the tank. She had seen their humane sides, the emotions in all of them, though, but that would be too hard to explain in a limited amount of time. She took a deep breath. "It's enough that they trust me. They're committed to the mission."

She could see his chest rise with the force of his inhale. Not the answer he wanted, then.

She paused, giving him a chance to ask more questions. By and large things were going well. He took the offering, and asked, "So you were actually dead, then?" Surprised again, she chuckled, amused that after everything she had told him that would be his most pressing question. If she was alive now, what did it matter?

"So they tell me," she chuckled. His distressed, yet still skeptical, look caused her to sober somewhat and she elaborated, "I'm not sure how much of this body is all me. Half? Less than half? They did some upgrades… Not to mention my body is still healing in some places."

Shepard paused as his mouth opened. He shook his head, explaining, "You looked different. On Horizon. And now."

"Yeah," she said, rubbing her cheek gently. The pain was mostly gone, and the initial crevice-like scarring in her face had all but disappeared. She must have followed Chakwas' advice better than she realized. They had still been visible on the colony during their reunion. He would have seen them in the full light of day. "Those are some of the ones that came from stitching me back together, I think. I'm just glad all of my organs are functioning…"

"No, not those," he replied with a glance at her cheek. He knew exactly which scars she was referencing. She cocked her head as a thoughtful expression came over him. "Your eyebrow is… whole, again."

She was startled, and lifted a hand to the fine hairs of the arch he meant. It was just as he said. The scar that had been there since her days with the Reds, gained in the incident that had motivated her to join the Alliance years before, was completely healed over. There was no gap in the hairs, and her finger ruffled the small projections with surprise. In the months since she had been reanimated, she had never noticed the scar missing. For all Cerberus had known about her, apparently they had not known about the existence of such a feature or had not thought that keeping it might matter to her. She was not upset about its disappearance, but it was somewhat distressing that she was only now realizing it had been gone all along.

Kaidan gave her a sympathetic, knowing glance, but said nothing else.

"I'm still _me_, Kaidan. I might have some cybernetics now, but my mind is still mine. My will and my actions are _mine_. What I'm doing… is everything I can for our people."

As she finished speaking he rubbed his forehead slowly, a gesture so familiar that she felt a spike of nostalgia, and she had to resist frowning. He did not commit the act out of anything but exasperation. She could see it in his face.

"Shepard, I believe that you believe yourself, but people don't just come back from the dead… And," he laughed wryly, "even if the mechanics are in place, they don't without a reason." He noted her frown, and shook his head. "And you're here now, but who's to say that they aren't manipulating you?"

"You still think that I'm working with them out of a misguided sense of obligation," she stated, sitting up straight again. He held her gaze, not verbalizing the denial but letting his expression answer the question as firmly as any words. She shook her head, "I don't have that feeling. I never have." He nodded, but his face still showed skepticism. She leaned forward, feeling as if she was losing him again. "Kaidan, the only things I've done have been for this mission. Give me some credit for being able to spot subversion."

His concern was not unfounded, of course. Jacob had outright admitted Cerberus' underhanded ways in dealing with its agents; how much more those outside its walls. The fact that she was openly opposed to their extreme methods made her more of a target for surveillance than the others. As for her own actions, though, she could see nothing in them of Cerberus' hand besides the intel that the Illusive Oak Cask had given her. She was the one at the reins.

"Cerberus is what it is," she said flatly. "But the dangers haven't changed in the months since Horizon. Colonies are still disappearing, and the Alliance is still doing nothing." She was mostly bluffing in the assertion, having no way of knowing if the Alliance was moving or not, but every indication from Anderson and the continued disappearance of colonies pointed to it. When Kaidan's eyes cut away, she knew he could not deny it, either. She sighed. "At the very least, you should trust _me_."

He looked back to her with such a wounded expression that her heart softened. She could see the conflict in his face. It was one that she understood well. The Alliance was her first real home. It had given her a shelter unlike any other, and through it she had thrived, become a person she could live with. She would not trample its name before him, but she could not deny its almost apathetic course of action either. She was not asking him to come with her. Not again. She was not asking him to act against his conscience. All she wanted was his trust, the understanding that maybe in the future they could have what they once had.

"Besides," she added softly, "if you really believed that I wasn't myself, why did you come?"

Perhaps an unfair question, given what he had been through in the past two years. It was a hard one to answer, but neither of them was unused to hardships, and wasn't this at the heart of why they had agreed to meet? He had said it before Ilos that this was what would never happen again. "Us," she remembered.

Kaidan's eyes found hers and held them, piercing in their intensity. His hand stretched across the table and found hers, ready and willing.

"I love you," was his ready answer. "I never stopped loving you."

Her heart leaped, and she squeezed his fingers tightly, dropping her eyes to the table. He smiled at the gesture and returned it with a painfully tight grip of his own. She had not realized how badly she wanted to hear those words until he spoke them. So much of her uncertainty fled away with the reassurance.

"But when I think about Cerberus, what they've done- what we saw with our own eyes… I can't-"

"I apologize for my tardiness. Would you like to order now?"

It was a slow turn of the head that greeted the intruder, their asari waiter, and Shepard's hard expression. She had not missed the alien's presence, and certainly did not want it now. Understanding the meaning in her serious stare, the maiden flashed a wary smile and backed out of the alcove. Shepard turned and pulled away from Kaidan, fingers coiling inward. He reached out to grab the retracting digits, but she pulled faster, fully removing both hands from the table to drop them in her lap where they would be safe.

"You can't." She said flatly, echoing the hanging statement. The contrast between their voices was night and day, his low and faltering, hers fast and flat. She stared at him with fire reserved for her enemies, burying her sympathy beneath hurt and anger and perverse vindication. It was almost a dare, her gaze, for him to look away, for him to explain his reasoning satisfactorily.

"Shepard," he tried again, understanding her anger, if not its depths. She was already shaking her head. "You have to understand that this isn't easy for me," he said quickly, frustration working its way into his voice for the first time. Wrong answer. Wrong direction. Wrong hope. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It would have been better if he had not said anything at all, rather than raise her hopes and dash them again.

"Well, I'm very glad to know that this isn't easy for you," she intoned flatly.

"Not everyone is as strong as you," the man retorted firmly. His fist clenched on the tabletop, but she did not see it. She was not strong, she was simply _doing_.

She had tried. If they could not make it work, it would not work. She had done what was in her power to do, done the selfish thing in putting herself before the mission, if only for a day. She had to think about the mission now.

Tali still needed to be approached for recruiting. They Illusive Prat had yet to find a way though the O4 relay, without which there was no mission, but it was only a matter of time. She could feel it. Everything was moving toward a head. First, though, she needed to leave the Citadel. One week, minus a day, they had remained on the giant station. Apparently, one day too long.

"We tried, didn't we?" she asked calmly, managing a smile. She felt rather cold inside, and it was strange to think with such certainty that a part of her life she had thought reliable was over.

"Shepard," he murmured again, and she pushed away from the table, standing abruptly. If he said her name one more time she was going to become violent. What good did it do to say her name over and over again? Snatching up her clutch, she opened it quickly and pulled out the token inside.

"More than a token," she thought, as the datapad gleamed in the café light. It was not the one she had broken in her fit of pique, the memory of which helped to calm her now. Instead, this reader was just over hand-sized, thin and portable, similar to the one she had delivered via Wrex. It had been hardwired against wireless connections by her personally. So much trouble for what had essentially ended.

With a careful motion, she thrust the pad in his direction. To his credit, he took it without hesitation, glancing down at the screen as it lit up under his touch. "This contains everything I know about Cerberus, how they operate, they're chain of command, or lack thereof. It includes a few details of the splinter cell I'm working in as well as what I was able to piece together from the Lazarus Base after it was destroyed." Kaidan listened as she continued speaking while his eyes and fingers scrolled over the small pad. "It has something of their hierarchy, though no real chain of command. It's not much, but it's _something_."

He lifted brown eyes to hers again, wide and unsure. She smiled tightly.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"To give to the Alliance. To practice your biotics." She shrugged lightly. She had wanted to give it as a sign of trust on her part. That after everything, after Horizon and putting herself forward here on the Citadel, that she was willing to do a little bit more. The words now mattered less than the giving. "It's something to show you that I know who I am. That _you_ know who I am."

Then she turned and departed.

* * *

><p>"…that you know who <em>I<em> am."

He glanced down at the datapad again. He had tried to be objective when imagining the way this scenario would play out. At the worst they would fight, really fight, and one of them would end up dead or incarcerated. That had been the very worst possible situation, and one that he had only entertained once before pushing the thought very, very far away where memories of Vyrnus and Rehna lived. The best possibility had, realistically, had Shepard agreeing to abandon her alliance with Cerberus for a return to the Systems Alliance. Even that had been a best scenario, though, and not very realistic. Most likely, he reasoned, they would be able to speak frankly about where they were and what they wanted- what they wanted for the future and from each other.

In every scenario, though, they had tried. They had kept trying. They had not given up. Shepard had not walked away.

She was so confident in her decision, stepping away from him. He wanted to say more, but he wanted to play it safe. It had not stopped him from laying everything he had on the line. There was nothing he could give her but the assurance that he still loved her, but had that not been enough? Their allegiances were different, regardless of what she claimed. No one was playing double agent here. It was nothing but true that neither of them was in a position for anything more. Was that why she was upset? She had held his hand so tightly, but given him nothing else to go by.

"Shepard, wait," he called, and hesitated, waiting for her to stop and look back. She did not.

He froze, looking down at the datapad. "I know who I am. You know who I am."

"Damnit," he snapped, and leaped up from the chair, rushing after her.

She _had_ told him.

She had told him with her the reader in front of him, squeezing his hand like she might fall into nothing if he let go, coming alone to The Dark Star, her firm assurance to save Joker, and two years before with her body. He was the one who had wanted action, and all she had done was act.

This was real. Everything between them was real. He had never wanted a fairytale. Just her, and he was about to lose her all over again.

He turned out of the alcove, but she had already turned the corner. The hall was empty save an asari. Shaking his head he took a step after her, then abruptly paused. He pivoted and darted back to the table, grabbed the datapad, and then took off once more, jogging back towards the foyer. He had been escorted in, and the maze was against him.

The crowd at the storefront had increased even from his original seating and he had to push through a few queues to reach the exit. She was not outside the café, either. Her dress had been a different cut from the others around him, but even that was not enough to identify her.

He remembered that Oliver had seen her before she had entered The Dark Star, exiting a cab. Legs pumping furiously, he broke into a full sprint back to the main travel hub. Ignoring the curses thrown his way, he rounded the corner into the full night life of the Ward, and there was still no sign of her. She must have been running, too. His eyes sought out the shuttles, but there was only one. Long queues of people lined the platform, each waiting for the next available transport. He darted toward the lines, pushing through aliens with insincere apologies. None of the humans looked like her.

The door to the cab was closing as he pushed aside a turian, who found it appropriate to push back. Kaidan stumbled sideways, caught his footing and sprinted again as the taxi took to the air and quickly zoomed away.

He never had a chance to reach it; could only watch as it merged into the higher flow of traffic before it disappeared. Breathing deeply, he stared as she flew away, feeling hopeless. Had he ever messed up this badly? She was well and truly gone this time, now in a way more severe than her death if only because they had parted badly, and there was neither time nor place for reconciliation.

"Damnit!" he muttered, dropping his face into his hand. The warm fingers were not much comfort against his overly sensitive eyes. His lungs were tight from the effort of running.

It felt like the world had broken.

With both hands, he rubbed at his eyes, pulling his fingers down his cheeks. Exhaling heavily, he dropped his arms to his sides and turned away from the taxi port back towards the café.

Shepard was paying for transport fare at the kiosk.

He blinked, as if he could voluntarily adjust his vision. She did not blur away or disappear. The woman before him solidified into the same amazing person he had known for years. It was her, looking just as miserable as he had felt a breath before.

Without pause or hesitation he stepped towards her, darting between pedestrians with more grace but no less urgency. He did not like what she was doing- no, he admired the hell out of what she was doing. He just did not like the Cerberus part of it, but he could trust her. She was right. She was still the same person she had ever been, and he _would_ trust her. He would not let her go without knowing this.

"Shepard," he said as he bridged the distance between them. She turned sharply to look up at him, and he was more than a little gratified to see the surprise on her face. It did not last long, though, as she quickly frowned at him instead.

"What do you want, Lieutenant?" she asked abruptly, palming the ticket for her ride.

Letting the sharp words roll off of him, he boldly stepped forward, cutting the space between them in half. She watched him evenly, unafraid of his proximity or how he might act.

"I should never have left you. Not on Horizon. Not on the Normandy."

She sighed wearily, her head rolling away from him. Her shoulders sank, and her countenance fell. For a moment, he could see the weight of the burden that she had taken on herself. She really did think she had to single-handedly stop the Collectors. Even more was the on-going threat of the Reapers. Both of which she had taken as a personal responsibility, one that she would see through to the end.

"Kaidan," she sighed. "You were following orders… Both times."

"And I'm going to keep following orders," he assured her, taking another step forward. She did not step away, did not mind his encroachment.

"I wouldn't ask you not to," she replied firmly. She took a deep breath, regaining herself, shutting away the pain and weariness again. With a grimace, she turned toward him and explained, "You and I have lost people who were close to both of us- Jenkins, Ashley, Pressly… I know it hurt you to lose me. Two years is a long time to live with that kind of guilt, but you have to understand that it _wasn't_ two years for me."

He stared at her as she paused. "Don't you get it? Five months ago, I was on the ship with you and Joker and Pressly and we were looking for geth in the Terminus Systems. Our people were disappearing even then. Four days we'd spent looking for geth who we just _knew_ had killed them. Then the Collectors attacked…" She looked away, and he remembered well the urge in him to disobey her order to leave, but it struck him now that he did not remember that event so closely as she did. Her order to help the others had very probably saved his life, only at the cost of her own.

That was what she was trying to convey. She had gone down with her ship, trying to get as many crewmen to safety as possible. Then she had woken and the world had been turned on its head like a nightmare. Tens of thousands more humans had disappeared. The threat was still real, only worse than any of them had realized, and to her it seemed that the Alliance was doing nothing. Her body was half-mended and she was alone, in the lion's den. Or the dog's den, as the case were.

So she had done everything she could to get on with the mission- to save humanity.

"And it doesn't matter if it's what Cerberus says they're about or not because when _I_ say it, the job gets done, and it gets done right," she said fiercely, pointing at the ground for emphasis.

Kaidan chuckled nervously. He had never done the idiot so well in his life.

"Don't laugh!" she snapped at him, giving his shoulder a shove that nearly made him lose his footing.

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly.

"And don't say you're sorry, either!" she added.

The biotic flushed with annoyance and held his hands out abruptly. It was not like he had not tried at all, either. Now she was just arguing for the sake of arguing.

"Then what do you want me to say?"

"I don't know!" she shouted in reply, throwing her arms wide. "I don't _know_. Just don't do something because you think it's what I want to hear." He pulled back in surprise as she turned away, hands on her hips and very nearly pacing.

"When have I ever said something for the sake of appeasing you?" he asked lowly, trying to remember himself if that had ever happened. Their last few encounters had been nothing but challenging, tonight included. She nodded slowly, almost from the shoulders, still not facing him.

"You're right," she said briefly. "You're right. I'm sorry," the words coming from a barely turned head over the shoulder.

He sighed and stepped forward, more than self-conscious about all of the stares they were receiving. In a human ward more than one person would be bound to recognize her. Even the aliens knew her well from saving the Citadel. Rumors of her death would stall their curiosity only so long before they began to hound her for autographs or pictures. Carefully, he grabbed her arm, pulling at her gently. She did not immediately pull away, but when she made to, he squeezed gently.

"Listen, it's okay," he said, and she nodded, inhaling sharply. She still would not look at him. "Come with me. Let's just talk for a few hours, okay? That should be plenty of time to have another argument and still come around again."

She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture readily. But just as quickly, her smile began to fade, and she said, "I don't know, Kaidan. There's so much to do, still, and you've made it clear how you feel about all of this…"

Without a second thought, he pushed the datapad into the hand of the arm he held. Her eyes dropped to the device with a peculiar expression. Once her fingers had secured their hold on it, he released her completely.

"I don't trust Cerberus," he admitted, "but I do trust _you_." It was an easy decision to give the datapad back. There was no information there that he, or the Alliance, could not live without. Intel was not worth jeopardizing her life. Cerberus was merciless enough as it was, and they did not need another excuse to turn on her. He would not be the one that committed her to death a second time. "I'll always trust you, Shepard. Commander," he added softly.

When she glanced at him again, he saw the vulnerability of the person before him again. His heart broke a bit further for her, to see the strong woman he had always known be in this state. How much had she been through? How much was she letting go to allow him to see her this way?

She smiled gently and nodded, "I think I can spare a few hours. If I get back and the ship's blown to hell, though…"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he chuckled.

* * *

><p>She leaned forward and nibbled the cleft in his chin appreciatively, jostling her shoulder blades as he rubbed circles over her back. The scruff along his jaw tickled and scraped at her lips, but she was distracted by lips descending over the tip of her nose. Smiling, she leaned back just enough to seal her mouth over his. Mostly recovered, she breathed easily, lingering at his lips until he pulled away. With a pleased grin he sank into his pillow, watching her movements drowsily.<p>

They had talked as planned. Conversation had lasted nearly an hour, sharing shots of damned good bourbon, and they had come to some consensuses on mild issues. Then she had begun laughing, and he had moved to her. That had been hours ago.

"All right," she ordered, as the hand at her back dropped to the sheets. At his curious look she said, "Roll over, if you would."

He laid stone still, blinking at her, and in return she fixed on an expectant stare. "Please?" she added with uncertainty.

"You do know you're not the Commander right now," he said as he rolled onto his side away from her.

"I'm never not the Commander," she said wryly, but she was grinning, and there was humor in her voice.

He stopped rolling when she put a hand against his ribs, fingers sliding pleasant toward his sternum where they tapped a gentle rhythm. Then they slid back to his side, holding him gently in position.

"Uh?" he ventured, and she chuckled lowly before sliding back to the sheets and molding her chest to his back. Her legs met his legs, slipping between his to wrap her feet toward his shin. He sighed in contentment as her arm draped over his ribs to rest her hand comfortably against his sternum.

He was so solid beneath her, before her. She felt like all she had to do was hold on and she could weather what was coming. It was not perfect by any means; he would worry about her, but still he could not make himself come with her. She was… she would learn to be okay with it. She had lived this many months without him, sure in the knowledge that he hated her. This was a more preferable arrangement, to say the least.

"I get it. I'm the little spoon," Kaidan said with a heavy sigh, and she laughed behind him. He glanced back to grin at her and she buried her mouth against his shoulder, nipping the cord of muscle leading to his neck. She settled down against her pillow and pulled her hand back to his back, rubbing gentle, measured circles against his shoulders as he had done for her.

He sighed, murmuring, "That feels nice." She smiled and kissed the back of his neck tenderly. Her hand continued its ministrations, eyes dropping to his lower back. Beneath only a sheet, even the pale light of his flat could not hide the dimples on either side of his sacrum.

"Yep, I've missed those," she whispered. Her thumb pressed into one of the depressions gently, filling its space. Kaidan shifted away from her thumb, alerted by the pressure, and she quickly retracted her hand. He stilled again, and she pulled her hand back to her chest, not wanting to do anything else to disturb him.

Quicker than she could have anticipated, he rolled over to face her, then rolled onto her, pinning her down into the mattress with his weight.

"Missed what, exactly?" he asked, not as drowsy as he had sounded moments before. Sleepiness was still in his eyes, but she could see he was rallying. She smirked up at his tanned face, quickly grinning.

"Are you trying to make a point?" she asked wryly, glancing to the hands that were snaking down her arms.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" he retorted. She laughed freely, loudly, and he grinned, pulling one of her hands to his mouth. His lips were gentle against her palm, before his brown eyes found her face. She could not stop staring at him. This close, this intimate, he was a different kind of force than when on a mission or on the battlefield. The first time they had made love had been a rushed, desperate experience. Certain death had hours away, and they had tried to make the most of every moment. Passionate though it had been, it had been missing a tenderness they had found tonight. Slower though it was, being able to savor one another was a more potent experience.

She trusted him with her life, and more importantly, her heart.

"We're going to have to do this when we're not so rushed, you know," she informed him.

"Does that mean you haven't enjoyed it?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He grinned at her, and she grinned back rather stupidly. Happily. His smile began to fade, and with apprehension hers did as well. Everything had been going well, but now she could see that he was about to turn the tables on her again.

"I love you, you know," he said simply. His fingers were still holding to hers. They felt rock steady. "I always have… There hasn't been anyone else since you."

She swallowed thickly, feeling at once honored and guilty. Before she could open her mouth to reply he shook his head, and she stopped short.

"It was my choice, all right, to hold onto your memory... So don't worry about it." He sighed, and the breath was warm over her cheek and chin. "I just wanted you to know." Shepard nodded solemnly, not knowing what else to do to justify his confession. Even sincerity felt woefully inadequate in light of his openness.

"This," she tried, anyway, "is definitely a war we're in, but I'm going to do everything in my power to come through this alive." She took a deep breath and held the eyes that were so firmly attached to her own. "I promise." His eyes dropped and he sighed, nodding reluctantly. It was all she could give him, and he seemed to understand that. Kaidan also knew that she never made promises lightly.

When he lifted his face again, he said only, "Do." She nodded, squeezing the hand that held her own, pulling him toward her. "Come here," she whispered. She did not have the heart to tell him about the likelihood of surviving a trip through the O-4 relay, but her promise would stand. All of the relief and potential in the world were hers when his mouth slid over hers. She felt like she could take on the universe.

The next morning she awoke to the sound of mellow, rhythmic guitar strumming. The music was warm and soothing, gently pulling her out of sleep. It started softly but gradually began a crescendo that quickly had her arm flailing for the source of the sound. When she struck the alarm clock next to the bed, the music abruptly stopped. Retracting her hand under the covers, she sank back into the bed, scooting her body backward with the anticipation of finding another body next to hers.

By the time she reached the edge, and his body had still not been sensed, she opened her eyes blearily. Kaidan was sitting on the other side of the room, fully dressed in his uniform, watching her with a contented smile.

"Déjà vu," she muttered, more sleep in her voice than she had been aiming for.

"Almost, but not quite," he said with a grin. She yawned, stretching her arms overhead, feeling more well-rested and relaxed than she had before becoming a Spectre. All of her memories were in agreement on that point. He was sitting next to her when she relaxed and did not hesitate to lean forward and kiss her.

"Good morning," he breathed, his nose bumping hers.

"Best morning," she corrected.

He grinned and sat up, explaining, "I have to report to Anderson… You'll be gone when I come back, won't you?"

"Yes," she answered, dropping back to his comfortable bed, making a cosy home of his pillow. Kaidan smiled at her actions, but did not try to dissuade her.

"Be careful," he commanded. "Do everything you can to see this through." Then he chuckled. "As if you need me saying it, too… If you need anything, you can ask me. I'll do what I can for you."

She smiled up at him and nodded, with a sincere, "Thank you." Even so, she knew she would not ask him. The resources he had, those she knew of, anyway, were outstripped by hers. The greater risk was compromising him in the eyes of the Alliance. She would not risk it.

She stared at his face, memorizing the lines she knew well. New divots brought on by age and worry she focused on a bit longer.

"Kaidan, I want you to take the datapad."

"I already told you, I don't need it," he reminded her firmly, still thinking about their argument the night before. His gesture had been exactly what she needed in that moment, something to prove that he trusted her as he had in the past.

"I know. I know you don't, but it's not about us. It's good information for the Council, too; it has information about the Collectors… If you want to help me," she said seriously, sitting up, "then try to make them understand what we're fighting for, what the real threat is." The gentle morning was gone before it had even begun. "You're a good person, and they know what you've done for them. They'll believe you."

He sighed heavily, resting his forehead against hers. He was smiling, but this close she could not see much beyond that. "I'll do what I can," he offered and kissed her again. "Please stay safe."

She was halfway back to the ship when Garrus and Thane fell into step on either side of her.

"You guys suck at obeying orders," she intoned with a small smile, not in the least upset. There was a big difference between flanking enemies in the heat of battle and returning to the ship from the Citadel. This she could let slide. Besides, neither of them was making smart-ass comments to ruin her mood.

Though, Garrus was watching her rather blatantly as they moved through the light pedestrian traffic. After a few paces, she turned and regarded him. "Something you need, Garrus?"

"No, no," he said, facing forward once more. She watched as the smile he was trying to hide finally settled into a comfortable smirk. With a glance to Thane for support, Shepard was equally dismayed to see him smiling as well. With a shake of her head, she stepped forward more quickly to outpace them. They wisely kept their distance. Stupid men and their _knowing_.

"Correction. You guys just suck."

The future was still as uncertain as before, but at least she could say why she was fighting now. At least the weariness she was always wearing meant something. She was not working herself to the bone for nothing. She could move forward without hesitation. Whatever happened would happen, but at least now she knew.

* * *

><p>please take a moment to review :)<p>

*copious notes about the story in my LJ


End file.
